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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654869">floriography</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/qbrujas/pseuds/qbrujas'>qbrujas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, Multi, a look at UB's feelings, detective is gender neutral</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:09:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/qbrujas/pseuds/qbrujas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A set of drabbles/character studies inspired by flower meanings, one for each member of Unit Bravo.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Detective/Ava du Mortain, Detective/Felix Hauville, Detective/Morgan (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. white violets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>White violets, for Nate Sewell<br/><i>Let's take a chance on happiness</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ava’s voice echoes in the back of Nate’s mind, words that have been repeated many times, in some way, over the past three centuries. <em> Stop, stop before you’re hurt again. </em> It is always the same story, always with the same outcome, and yet Nate can’t help but come back like a moth drawn to flame because of that <em> one </em>chance it might finally be right.</p><p>Ava doesn’t understand, not truly—she doesn’t recriminate and she is there to pick up the scattered pieces of him, but the fallout is all that she sees. Not the desire, the longing, the flashes of happiness that make this, in some way, worth it. At least, he thinks it will be worth it—and he can’t bring himself to think otherwise, even through the heartbreak. Even through the sour taste left behind by the ill-advised attempts at intimacy that are better suited to Morgan’s style.</p><p>When he meets the detective, Ava’s voice grows louder. But her concern is drowned out by the feeling of being truly <em> alive </em> for the first time since Nate can really recall. The feeling of being wholly consumed by the detective’s presence, their <em> essence</em>, the way they spark feelings in him he had only felt the ghost of before.</p><p>It might end the same way again, he knows he would do well to be cautious, but if it doesn’t—won’t it be worth everything, <em> anything</em>, if it’s for good this time?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Inspired by the flower hunt created by @twcrohunt on tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. daffodils</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Daffodils, for Felix Hauville<br/><i>The sun is always shining when I'm with you</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The light in this world is different, different from that other place that Felix doesn’t want to—refuses to—think about.</p><p>He couldn’t say exactly why or how, but it brings out colors in a way that has him turning his head every few seconds to take it all in, shades and hues that are vibrant and bright and he wants to capture all of them, experience all of them, everything this place has to offer to him.</p><p>It’s not just the colors, either. It’s the smells and the flavors and the <em> light. </em>He’s never seen so much or felt so much and it makes him throw himself into it all with no worry nor care. (Because he’s finally got a home, and a place to feel safe.)</p><p>And then he meets the detective and it’s just—a burst of color and feeling and he has no idea what he’s saying, what he’s doing, but they’re the most <em> incredible </em>person and he wants them near at all times. He had almost gotten used to the light of the sun in this world, but now it feels like an entirely new place; he closes his eyes and feels a tingling warmth that wasn’t there before, he opens them and the reds and the blues and the greens have a brightness to them that he’d never seen.</p><p>He’s fidgeting. He’s nervous, yes, a little. But it’s just because they make him feel so much and there’s this bright light all around them—what if they don’t feel the same way? What if they’re so used to all these colors and feelings that it’s nothing special to them?</p><p>But they do, they choose him, they want <em> him</em>, and the colors have never been brighter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. petunias</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Petunias, for Morgan<br/><i>Your presence soothes me</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morgan’s senses always get the best of her. She has to deal with the smells, the sounds, even the damn scratching of her t-shirt on her skin is something that won’t leave her alone. Sometimes, <em> sometimes </em> some part of her almost wishes she was like Nate, with all that practice he’s had to dampen his senses, all the work he’s put in to do that and for what? To have human food and drinks and to be more like them. But it’s something she has no patience for. It’s much better to lose herself in the <em> nicer </em>aspects of humans and drown out the noise that plagues her. At least that way she can have some fun.</p><p>The witching hour is a relief—quiet and cool and she can close her eyes and almost feel what it’s like to not be overwhelmed with sensation from all directions. Almost.</p><p>Well, it’s not like she remembers ever knowing anything else.</p><p>When she meets <em> them</em>, she almost doesn’t notice how it all goes quiet. She’s too focused on the enticing lines of their body and the way she can get their heart to speed up and the lovely reactions she can draw from them.</p><p>But then they’re gone and it all comes <em> back</em>. The light burns and the heat is overwhelming and the bright colors make her eyes narrow in pain. And she doesn’t know why, she doesn’t know what’s changed but she chases the detective anyway, and if it calms her senses, it’s just the thrill, the anticipation, the excitement—right?</p><p>It’s just some fun, right?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. striped carnations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Striped carnations, for Ava du Mortain<br/><i>I can't be with you</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ava hasn’t had a care outside of Unit Bravo for three hundred years. Even longer than that if she counts the time when Unit Bravo was the name for what was really only <em> her—</em>and six hundred years on your own can shape you, make you forget a lot of things.</p><p>Family and friends have no meaning for her outside of what she has forged over the centuries; Nate, who knows her better than anyone could have ever hoped to know her as a mere human, who is stability and comfort she wouldn’t know how to ask for—that she doesn’t need to ask for. Morgan, who is trustworthy beyond all, and Felix, who she will keep safe at any cost, and the three of them are all she needs.</p><p>When she meets the detective it’s like the sound of shattering glass.</p><p>No, no, <em> no. </em></p><p>She knows, immediately, what this could be, what it <em> is</em>—but that only makes it worse, and the pull she feels towards them threatens to shatter <em>her </em>in every way; her resolve, her strength, the nine hundred years she has spent being nothing other than what she is.</p><p>She hears Nate’s voice in the back of her mind. <em> It will only hurt so much worse if you don’t.</em> It’s a mirror of what she has said to him so many times. But she can’t, she <em> can’t</em>.</p><p>She almost gives in, she can’t help herself, and the taste makes her hate it all the more: it is the sweetest thing she has ever experienced—but still she must step back, and deny herself. Nate’s voice rings in her head, but she can’t. Not this. Not them.</p><p>She shatters the training dummies instead.</p>
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